I stop to smell lilacs one morning/and wonder if anyone is watching.
a poem about a family watching the Kentucky Derby
A while ago I decided I was tired of handcrafting an individual .php file every time I added an article to this website. So I decided to shop around again for a static site generator.
This is not your grandfather's Ramblin' Boy. And the lyrics are not from the versions by Tom Paxton or Joan Baez. Listening to Tom Paxton after this is like listening to Pat Boone sing "Blueberry Hill."
Do spiders have a "thing" for clean windows? Do they lie in wait for you to wash the glass before they come out in the spring? Or is it just coincidence, timing—both spiders and window cleaning being part of the rites of spring?